Hello from the Cold!

My husband and I returned from his High School reunion a few days ago, and I have to say that despite the devil image above, it was magic. To see a group of men who spent their adolescences together decades ago, and witness the camaraderie and yes, love, between them - these guys step up when one of them is hurting - was life-affirming.

We drank beers, we laughed, we visited with old friends and haunted old haunts from our St. Louis days. The weather was outrageously great, unseasonably warm, and smelled of fall. Every moment was steeped in deep sentiment and gratitude.

Until we got home, and everyone got Covid. Everyone but me (until today), and I've been playing nurse maid. Not complaining - I don't mind taking care of my youngest and my husband one bit, and getting sick is sometimes a blessing. It reminds us to slow down, and even allows us to catch up on some reading, perhaps enjoy a glorious day without having to move a muscle. Those are rare days indeed.

It also allows us time to absorb terrible news. We've spent many hours the past few days trying to process the horrific images we've seen coming out of Gaza. Life is precious and peace is delicate, often resting upon only the lone feather of a dove.

Hopefully, all of you and your loved ones are safe and healthy, and that you have some time to devote to each other, as well as to your favorite activities this week. Maybe this perfectly October-themed essay from a few years ago will give you permission to pour yourself some hot apple cider and put your feet up.

The Dangerous Allure of the Horror Story

By Yours Truly

My middle daughter, who’s fifteen, is pretty crackerjack at horror make-up. Ever since going to theater camp when she was eleven and taking a special FX class, her Halloween costumes have been killer.

But it’s my twelve-year-old daughter who really loves horror. She binge-watches anything from Twilight to the Halloween franchise, devours Stephen King, and writes her own stories all the time – often from the point of view of some deranged, but charming psycho. Nothing goes too far or is off limits for her. Not demonic possession or vomit-inducing gore or heinous monsters or wicked cults. And she sleeps like a baby at night. Go figure.

I watch her with a mix of envy and awe. I’ve always been fascinated by horror. The sneaky way in which it toys with our psyches, revealing even the most oh, so rational of us as frauds. The ones who put ourselves above the supernatural and claim to be too smart for religious magic, sorcery, or any paranormal mystery. Things like ghosts, telekinetic powers, space aliens, witches, and the undead. Some of us brush off the whole phenomenon of scary stories, claiming to be indifferent to the dark charms of a chiller, thriller toni-i-i-ight.

Cold Podcast

This week in the Cold, we talk about the institutions and experiences that shape our lives, change our trajectories, and allow us to see ourselves anew. We get contemplative, sentimental and philosophical as I tell you not only about my husband's Alma Mater, but mine. Some great stories are told (ever been chased down a dark alley by a Serbian gangster?), so don't even think about not joining in.

Larry's Music Box

We're doing something a little bit different this week, as I'm offering you this wonderful and surreal short film by Czech filmmaker Jan Švankmajer . It's his interpretation of Edgar Allan Poe's 1842 story, The Pit and the Pendulum, only it's called The Pit, the Pendulum, and Hope. I hope you enjoy this horror story.

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Until next time,

Victoria

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